Venus Lullaby
by Y0ursTru3ly
Summary: This was supposed to be a one night stand. This is the agreement that they silently drafted with their eyes and signed with a kiss. REDONE AND CURRENT
1. Adrift in Space

I do not own Bebop, yadda, yadda, yadda. This is just for fun, blah, blah, blah. I make no money cry, cry, cry. Is this really even necessary? This is my disclaimer for the entire story, so savor this.

I hope everyone's not too OOC. I really tried my best, but it's just been so long since I've seen the episodes. This is also the remade Venus Lullaby, one that I am actually committing to, this time, no lies and no hiatuses. I also have a wonderful BETA, my room mate and fellow lover of fanfictions that will be sure to keep me on track.

Spike x OC

You don't really have to read this part above the line. It's pretty boring, but if you want to learn how the crew meets up again, take 2 minutes out of your life and find out. If you don't care and okay with the idea of them magically appearing out of nowhere, that's fine too.

_Venus Lullaby_

Adrift in Space

_The Fates_ looked on with adoration of their work as life had returned to normal on the Bebop, or at least as normal as this odd collection of people could muster.

Faye had returned three months ago when the two content bachelors had decided to take a little time off to enjoy a bit of gambling. Without a certain cryogenically frozen woman onboard, their bank account was actually able to keep funds which allowed for splurging when the fancy crossed their minds. Sitting down at a spades table—Spike promised as being lucky—there Faye was, the dealer, just like old times. Perhaps this was a lucky table after all, assuming your definition of luck is 5'6 with short, deep violet hair, and flawless alabaster skin.

"_I see you're back to your old ways," Spike commented nonchalantly while staring at his cards, the initial shock beginning to wear away. He took a moment to admire her classical, revealing bunny costume, a slimming black satin leotard with a plunging V neck line. His eyes stopped to focus on her ample breasts, highlighted by the harsh florescent lighting above. _

_Ignoring his comments, Faye leaned over the table to give him a better look, "Like what you see?" Rolling her eyes at Spike's smirk and standing straight, Faye began in earnest, "It really is nice to see you guys again."_

"_Oh yeah?" Jet finally spoke up arranging his cards, "So what kinda trouble are you in now?"_

_Faye gave an indignant huff at his comment. Trouble? Hah! She was trouble—as the many men she left in her wake had come to find out, these two being no exception. Spike and Jet shared a look. They steeled themselves for the coming onslaught of persuasions to soon follow, persuasions that she would use to get back on the Bebop and into their wallets. _

_What would her tactic be? _

_Guilt: you would allow a poor woman and friend to face the merciless coldness of space alone? No good sweetheart, you wanted to go it alone_

_Seduction: licking her lips and cooing, common boys, please? Please is right. Who hasn't already hit that, including Spike on one of his more desperate nights. _

_Wrath: I'll string you up by your dicks if you don't let me back on the Bebop! What kind of weight can she throw around? They would simply leave her ass to pay whatever transgression she has made without a second thought._

_Instead, Faye said nothing, simply smiling cordially to the two men treating them like any other guest. When they left the table, hesitantly and unsure, they should have guessed that she would be the one to set off the security alarm on the Bebop, breaking into the ship and settling herself in like nothing ever happened. _

"_Finally you're back, that damn thing won't shut up!" the intrusive woman yelled from the couch in her usual shrill voice. Jet dialed the combination to shut off the alarm, noting the bullet holes protruding from the metal box, then shook his head and walked away resigned to the fact that this would be the last vacation they would ever be able to afford. Spike glared at the woman. "What's your problem?" she scowled._

Just recently had the crew come across Ed, or in actuality, she appeared seemingly out of thin air. After returning from a bounty hunt, Faye and Spike were astonished to find Edward sitting idle on the floor near the couch typing on her laptop as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"_Faye ruined the bounty," Spike growled as he trudged into the living room. _

_Jet turned around on the couch to see the commotion behind him. _

"_How was I supposed to know he was deathly allergic to eggs?" Faye shot back, shoving past Spike in the door way. "Isn't Jet supposed to take care of the research so mistakes like this don't happen? And, maybe if we had more to eat than JUST baskets and baskets of eggs—"_

_Faye was cut off by Spike, "We didn't have any problems with money until you came back on the ship. If you'd get your hands out our wallets and keep your tongue out the throat of every guy you see…" Spike lost his momentum upon seeing the red headed child sitting on the floor, humming and swaying obliviously. "Uhh… Jet?"_

_The bald man shook his head and shrugged, silently admitting his own confusion._

She had yet to reveal how she had found them.

Despite the vastness of space, these four people somehow managed to find each other. The Bebop was calling to them. The Fates brought them home.

Spike Spiegel stares up at a grey ceiling restlessly as the tapping of Edward on her computer keeps tempo with his thoughts. In his mind's eye he pictures Jet staring over the young girl's shoulder as she looks up more bounties. He can feel Ein staring up at him with hungry eyes. Tough luck, mutt, they were all hungry. Jet reads off another bounty price but Spike refuses to be bothered by the small fries. He has too much pride for that, but something had to be done soon. He has become too accustomed to the empty pain in his stomach. On top of that, the Bebop is in need of supplies and the Swordfish II sustained serious damage from his last mission.

The door slides open and the clicking of heels against metal resonates lowly throughout the room. Faye flops down on the yellow chair and gives a dramatic sigh. She goes ignored.

"I've never been so hungry in all my life. I'm starting to waste away!" Ignore. "We'll have to eat Ein pretty soon while he's still got some meat on him."

Said corgi stared up at Faye unamused.

"Stop bitching. You should have just stayed on earth," Spike shoots from his stretched out position on the couch. It isn't that he cares for the dog; actually, he had contemplated the thought in his mind a few times before. Bored and restless, the green haired man welcomed any sort of action, even if it was as trivial as picking fights with Faye on a day to day basis.

"Well maybe if you weren't so damn lazy, we could afford to eat!" Faye bites back. Arguing has become anticipated for her.

"Excuse me your royal pain in my ass," Spike jumps up now and bows with mock chivalry, "but it appears a leech has affixed itself to my account and drains my money every time we stop."

"That pocket change?"

"It was enough for you to get yourself a nice dinner, wasn't it? And you didn't even have the decency to bring anything back for the rest of us!"

With no way to defend herself, Faye settles down and wisely decides to end the tiff, "Let it go. What's passed is past."

Just as Spike opens his mouth for another comment, Faye jumps from her seat excitedly and jogs to join Jet over Ed's shoulder.

The plum haired woman clasps her hands together in joy as she stares at the computer screen. "We're going to Venus?" Images of the resort planet flash before her emerald eyes. Shimmering blue depths sweep onto pure, white sandy beaches, tall palm trees stretch to a blue abyss attempting to reach the radiant artificial sunlight. Just what a beauty such as herself needed: to be surrounded by a beautiful atmosphere with other beautiful people.

Spike hadn't heard a word of Jet and Ed's conversation before that. "Forget it," Spike settles, flopping back down on the crimson seat to return to staring up at the ceiling.

"And why not?" Faye yells willing another argument to rise.

"Not that you care, but we need supplies and repairs done. We can't afford anything on that planet. It's a tourist trap for people willing to pay out their ass for a glimpse of what they'll never succeed to. The only people who live there are aristocratic punks who sit in the sun on the backs of the low lives who toil under them."

"Ed knows a person." Everyone turns to the odd hacker waiting for her to say more. "Ed's person will work for free."

Spike scoffs.

"Are you sure Ed," Jet checks. The teen nods animatedly, her head falling back then to her chest several times until it seems as if she forgot what she was doing and begins rocking her head side to side.

"Well, I guess it's worth a try."

Spike shoots up from his rest seeking state, "You can't be serious."

"I agree with Jet," Faye consents eagerly. "What are a few days in paradise when all we're doing is floating around out here aimlessly?"

"A hole in our pocket!" Spike answers too late as Faye bounces from the room in high spirits to figure out which bathing suit she wants to bring.

Jet excuses himself from the room with a slight wave from his hand as he exits the sliding door, most likely to tend to his bonsais.

The whispered tipping of Ein's nails against the sheet flooring draw Spike's dark eyes to the canine as he moves around the couch to sit with Edward. Ein nudges her slender fingers with his cold black nose and is rewarded with her skilled finger tips massaging the wiry fur around his neck. Edward stares at the screen in deep concentration, an air of seriousness surrounding her and replacing her once smiling eyes. Deep thought is apparent through her features. Contemplating whether or not to speak, a dark shadow seems to suddenly leave the animated girl. Ed, the one he grew to tolerate, returned and this is enough for him as he lays back down searching for sleep. The tapping of Edward on her computer keeps tempo with his thoughts.


	2. Dreaming of You

I found the episodes online, so the beginning is from episode 27. I hope you enjoyed chapter one. Please review. Disclaimer still applies

Dreaming of You

"_Why, why did you love me?" Julia whispered as the sky cried above them, tears for the dead. "Let's just go away someplace, escape, vanish, go somewhere there's no one else around. Just the two of us." Spike stood unmoved by her words. They both knew he couldn't leave. Not yet. He hated the rain._

Dreamy eyes open to a blurred mass of golden brown. _Julia? _ Spike wonders briefly before his sight clears to reveal a smiling Welch corgi. Their eyes lock briefly before a pink tongue flicks out and kisses the tip of his nose. Immediately, Spike's lips curve into a frown. The small, suspended dog squirms sensing danger, and falls onto his offender's stomach before bolting off.

"Ein, come back!" Ed yells after the small dog. Only now does Spike notice the red head standing above him behind the couch. She runs to the door to pursue her friend then stops suddenly, "Oh, Spike-person, Fay-Faye says, 'thanks'." While repeating the message, Ed tries for a seductive pose, despite her string bean figure, in attempts to portray Faye. Her non-existent hip is awkwardly pushed out to the side as her left hand rests on her bony side and her right hand goes to her lips to blow a kiss and wink. Spike watches the young girl pose and briefly wonders if she will always look like a prepubescent boy. He is broken out of his thought by her whining voice.

"Eiiin!" the girl hollers down the hall, the metal paneling carrying her voice.

Silence echoes loudly throughout the room now, except for the light buzzing of vibrating molecules still resonating Ed's high voice. Spike settles himself back into the couch to continue his nap. Every time he closes his eyes he relives that same damn dream. Those same damn faces taunt him from beyond the grave. Paradise, Hell, they're both the same to him. _I should have died_. Immortality is a curse. With nothing to live for, life has become a timeless sentence. Now he awaits true death's welcoming embrace.

"Spike, move your ass. We've been docked for almost an hour now," Jet commanded. A docking bay had been built for larger ships in this region because of the heavy tourist attraction. Docking is charged by the day and they've wasted more than enough time and money for Jet's liking. Shifting his eyes only slightly, Spike becomes aware of the ex-detective staring down at him sternly. "Christ, I wish you wouldn't do that. You look like you're dead."

_If only it were true._

Spike sits up, ignoring the pain that shoots through his nerves. His vision blurs again at the sudden elevation shock and dizziness swims through his head. Resting his head in his palms he collects himself. The moment is brief.

Staring down at the coffee table in front of him, Spike feels an odd premonition. Something's out of place. His eyes scan slowly over the surface. Old, empty plates stacked, reminders of his devoid stomach. Beer bottles toppled over. Ashtrays grungy and in need of emptying. Papers splayed over a specific portion, systematically hiding a pornographic magazine, necessary reading material for any space cowboy. His wallet…open? Staring hard, Spike specifically remembers his wallet being closed before going to sleep. He concentrates on the leather hard, a deep frown forming on his face and furrowing his brow.

"What's wrong, Bud?" Jet asks his motionless partner.

"Where's Faye?"

"She dashed out as soon as we docked, why?"

Moving slowly, Spike reaches for his wallet. Just as expected, his card was missing. "Bitch ran off with my money."

"Well, that's Faye for ya," Jet chuckles lightly finding humor in his friend's bad luck. He never left his wallet unattended with her onboard.

Spike stuffed the brown leather wallet into his back pocket and grabbed his signature indigo jacket. Silently he followed Jet, hands jammed in his pockets, sulking.

Jet silently led Spike outside the ship and onto the docking bay where they would catch a ride to the planet's surface. Glancing around him, he watched the sea of aristocratic looking people, humming happily and carefree. Diamonds and pearls strung together and resting on ample breasts and burdened ear lobes glistened in the high lighting of the docking bay as men laughed jovially, a beautiful woman on each arm. What did these people have to worry about? Unlike him, they would leisurely be able to spend their nights in hundred thousand Wong hotels unconcerned for their docked ships, racking up just as much of a fee sitting in the docking bay.

"What's this thing supposed to be?" Spike finally spoke up staring in distaste at the pompous, baroque, palace sitting before him.

Jet led Spike to the line for entering the ferry ship that would be taking them down to Venus. "They don't allow personal ships to enter so you have to pay a hell of a lot of money to land in Venus' port and take one of their ferries down to the planet." Glancing back at his comrade, Jet saw him to not be paying attention. Sighing exasperatedly, he presented the flight attendant their ticket.

A young woman with a perfectly sculpted and deeply tanned body barely covered by a monokini bows deeply before the two men welcoming them on board. She looks up through her long, platinum blonde hair and winks at Jet. He grins back at her, really wishing they were coming to the resort planet under different circumstances.

The inside of the ship is just as gaudy and over done as the outside. A silk and gold thread runner stretched down the center aisle, flanked by large coushioned chairs of ivory and a polished leather. As they walk the length of the ship, all the way to the back, Spike glances over the other passengers before his eyes came upon familiar fluffy, red hair. "Why the hell is she here?" Spike asks referring to Ed sitting patiently in a row of empty seats.

"We don't know what this guy looks like, so we need Ed to find him."

"Does this supposed connection have a name?"

"Ezekiel."

Spike raises an eyebrow at the odd name before shrugging it off and taking his seat at the end of the row. Glancing around Jet, he actually takes notice to Ed sitting silently, lightly swinging her legs in rhythm to a beat all her own. Her dreamy eyes gaze out the pearl studded window sightlessly while slender fingers rest patiently upon a large hat box, most likely where Ein is hiding. Closing his eyes finally, Spike falls back into the repeating memory of his past.

The wonderfully salty scent of the ocean carries in the air, light and refreshing. Warm, clear cerulean skies stretch on endlessly, high above, as gulls travel the expanse, searching for the end. Throngs of people spill from the ferry, excited by the thought of romantic adventures surely awaiting them, men dressed in stereotypical floral tops and anxious women already adorning swimsuits. The Bebop crew stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Two days is all we can afford to stay in port," Jet begins as the trio sits at a café table. Ein pants heavily as Ed strokes the poor animal's head soothingly. Even water's not complementary on this planet. "We'll split up for now. Me and Ed will track down Ezekiel while you find Faye and get your money back."

"And how the hell do you suppose I find her?" Spike asks while looking around. Who knows where she may be by now and his card is probably already tapped dry.

"Ein can do it," Ed announces proudly, "cantcha, boy?"

Ein wags his tail and gives a short bark.

"I'm supposed to follow this mutt?"

"Look, it's the best chance you got. I'll spot you some cash for now and we'll call if we find the guy."

With this plan agreed upon, Jet stands and waits for Ed to come along. Ein whines as his master leaves him by Spike's feet.

"You be a good boy for Spike-person and help find Fay-Faye." Ed commands gently. She bounds off energetically despite the oppressive heat, leaving Jet to follow.

"One more thing, partner, no fooling around."

Spike gives his best hurt expression, "I would never." A grin breaks through just as Jet turns away. "Now look here, mutt," Spike begins turning his attention to the empty spot beside his chair. Jumping up from his seat affectively toppling it over and causing the other diners to stare at him questioningly, he surveys the café deck for the small dog. There's Ein, trotting away in the opposite direction Ed went.

_Damn mutt_. Spike curses to himself silently. He should have eaten him when he had the chance. Carelessly pushing a waitress out of the way, causing her tray to tumble to the ground, Spike takes off after the canine that accelerates upon hearing his heavy, approaching steps.


	3. Warm Nights

Warm Nights

The suffocating, muggy heat makes it almost impossible for him to lift his legs. Jet concentrates on not stumbling into the hard red clay below, pocked with sharp stones as he walks the lower ring of Venus, a society not too many people imagine would exist on this beautiful vacation planet. Children run past, bare, calloused feet padding across thick red clay soil. Parents watch on, satisfied for at least a moment that their children's empty bellies would be forgotten for now. They work in the shade making trinkets to sell to tourists, their only source of income on this desolate waste land. They are protected from the burning yellow sky, but it is impossible to hide from the heat. These are the real Venisians, shamefully hidden from view by their government.

He wonders if it's really worth it, walking in this suffocating heat as the Bebop drains money from their already meager account. What if this Ezekiel character is really made up? What if he already packed up and got off this damned wasteland of a planet? Glancing down at Edward, to see how she's faring, he notices just now how quiet she is. Thinking back, he realizes she has been surprisingly well behaved all day. The thought worries him for this is certainly not the wild child he knows.

She walks with purpose, wide eyes taking in her environment completely. Jet moves closer to the child protectively, as another group of children run by, shoving into him slightly, uncaring in their blissful activity. He has seen her like this on her computer, staring seemingly void into the screen. She is a genius, this he has come to accept, no matter how hard it is to get past the goofy kid on the outside. Perhaps that is simply a façade. Maybe this is the true "Radical Edward".

The silence between the two in not uncomfortable. They never speak very much, and really, there's not too much to be said between a child and adult. This gives Jet ample time to think. He imagines his life differently, a meditative reminiscing of an alternate reality. While most men longed for a son, someone to carry on their family name, he had always wished to have a daughter. Just one, completely unique. Someone beautiful, with milky white skin and long, dark locks. She would smile up at him, always, even when he wasn't looking. He would protect her, censer the real world from his darling flower. And when she would sleep in night, he imagined himself at her door frame wondering how he could ever be responsible for anything so beautiful. He liked the name Lillian.

"Child," a feminine voice calls out to them. Coming back to reality, Jet glances up at the portly woman standing in an open doorway. This the first person to acknowledge them although many eyes have been caught peering out, suspicious of the new arrivals, or perhaps a bit frightened. Ed stops as well knowing she is being referenced. The woman's eyes soften as a sad smile crosses her wide cheeks, "Please, come in."

The duo finds themselves sitting across from each other on blue chairs that have seen better days. The paint chips and peels, long strips curling perfectly in a slow retreat. A large window overlooking the table is shielded by dusty blinds, though cracked and splintered, attempting to keep the harsh sun from entering. Sinews of yellow light streak the metal table in horizontal stripes regardless of the blinds valiant efforts. The only sound is of the rickety ceiling fan rotating noisily above, circulating hot, humid air, threatening to come crashing down as it gyrates on a loose axle.

"Here you go," the woman smiles while placing two tall glasses of water on the table. Condensation streaks down the class quickly leaving perfect rings on the table top. Jet notices the glasses are chipped, yet clean and probably considered by the woman as her finest set. He drinks the soothing liquid down with appreciation in two heavy gulps as Edward nurses hers. The woman watches Ed the entire time and places a hand on her soft red mane, petting the hair in a reminiscing way, strokes gentle and drawn out. The young girl doesn't seem to mind and the woman soon remembers herself and takes a seat at the head of the table. "You must be looking for Ezekiel."

Jet raises a brow at this, "What makes you think that?" His previous life as a detective has made him suspicious of people who seem to know more than they were told.

"Well," the woman chuckles, "we don't get too many visitors around this part of Venus who aren't." Her eyes stray back to Edward, saddened slightly. "No use showing up at her doorstep though."

"_Her_?" Jet asks taken aback by this revelation.

The older woman carries on ignoring his comment. Her fingers cup the younger child's chin gently, "I'll be sure to tell her you came by, Edward."

Ed smiles and nods slightly.

A million and one questions run through Jet's mind at this moment as he stands outside the door, back into the gripping heat, curiosity peaked more than ever. Only now does he realize and begin to appreciate the significant coolness of the house. As Ed walks, he notices her spirit has returned, a load lifted from her slender shoulders. She seems so much happier.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, Jet resides that his questions can wait. The only thing he wants now is to find a hotel to crash at, energy completely drained by the unforgiving golden heavens of Hell.

She would cry. He'd come back to the ship, and not have to say one word. She would know, as soon as he stepped through the doors, and then she would begin to cry. God, how he hated the sound of a woman crying—he never knew what to do. He would much rather she gets angry. Scream, threaten him, slap him even, but just don't cry, because that, Spike couldn't handle. He supposed that is why he continues to look for Ein, because it's even worse when a child cries.

He wasn't sure exactly when the dog disappeared from his line of vision. Maybe it was the sweltering heat waves that wafted from the sand, or maybe it was the slow moving crowd of tourists that censored his range of vision, but the mutt seemed to have vanished off the face of the planet. Stopping to take a seat on a white bench staring out over a perpetual boardwalk towards the sea, Spike considers his options while staring up at the dazzling blue "sky". _I could go to a pet shop, ask for another… damn, what type of dog is that?_ The thought of bringing in another animal, this time on purpose, makes the grown man cringe in distaste. He hated animals and always would. _Ed will get over it. She may not even cry. _ He shakes his head at the farfetched possibility. He just lost her best friend for Christ's sake. Of course she won't get over it. Running long, agile fingers through wild thick hair, pleasantly warmed by the sun overhead, Spike stares across from him, almost unbelieving.

There in the sand less than six meters away is Ein, sitting across from him as if waiting. Still he sits dumbfound until the dog barks and wags his tail playfully. Standing slowly, Spike inches closer as none threatening as possible, despite the tense muscles in his calves, ready to lunge at the animal if he tries to run again, fingers clenching and unclenching with frustration. He forces a grim smile to his face, a remarkably challenging act considering by this point, the bounty hunter is pissed as all Hell.

Just as he bends down to pick the sorry mutt up by the scruff of his neck, Ein bolts off across the sandy beach. Spectators hide amused smiles behind glasses of overpriced beverages as they watch the comical antic. Not one to be made a fool of, Spike follows with revitalized vigor.

The mass expansion of hot sand in uncomfortable for the small dog's sensitive paws. He moves with long strides, smelling out his target. Between legs of surprised women and over sprawled out sun bathers, Ein's small, strong legs work in time with his enhanced brain calculating distance and inventing evasive maneuvers. Finally reaching his destination, he runs under a tarp relying on Spike to figure out the rest.

Finally slowing his pace, Spike watches as Ein slips into a makeshift shaded bar. Couples smile flirtatiously over high round tables while sipping fruity, tropical drinks, more sugar than alcohol. Glancing around, he catches sight of his prize sitting beneath the bar. Ein is staring directly at him. _He's mocking me. I'll kill him and eat him like I should have in the first place._ As he approaches, eyes fixed upon the damned animal, he notices a slender hand pouring the contents of a glistening glass into a bowl sitting before the dog. Ein laps up the contents greedily as the hand gently strokes his head. This hand transfixes his attention and Spike finds himself watching with lusty fascination at the hand rises up long toned legs, to rest on the bar as another hand reaches for a drink which shames most of the men sipping on the equivalence of a snow cone.

Sauntering over to the bar casually, Spike takes a seat next to the woman whom so effortlessly caught his eye. She glances over him indifferently, her golden eyes hardly shifting, unimpressed. Although she turns back to her drink without a word, he knows that she has opened herself up to him as a possibility. She's waiting for him to make the first move.

Taking his time, Spike drinks her in through his peripheral. He finds his fingers tingling to caress her copper skin, an affect he assumes of the Venus sun. Her sun kissed body shifts, to gain the barkeep's attention. He comes to her presence eagerly.

"Another," the young woman orders under deceivingly bashful eyelashes.

"On me," Spike finds himself cutting in. "And I'll have the same."

The middle aged man behind the counter glares at the new man as the woman gives Spike another glance over but does not smile as he expects her to. Her honeyed eyes stare into his own whispering seductive promises before turning back to wait for her drink. Spike gives a half grin before reaching into his jacket to pull out a cigarette. As soon as he lights it, his drink is haphazardly shoved before him. Taking the liquor up to his lips, a wave of burning ice sloshes down his esophagus and swirls with his empty stomach. Harmful fumes rush to his brain causing a swimming affect and dizziness to momentarily impair his thoughts. The intensity catches him by surprise but he holds it in.

"Impressive," the young woman commented while staring straight ahead, her sultry voice the hypnotic swell of tides before they submerge back from whence they came. And like the tides, when her voice, ever transient has gone, he found himself missing it. Spike gives a triumphant grin.

Her slender fingers wrap around the glass delicately. Desire pulses through his needing nerves suddenly for her to touch him so sensitively. A fleeting brush of her hand combs through short fiery tresses. Spike too longs for his fingers to stroke these locks, heavy with sweat after a night already building, but before that fiercely, the flames clenched in his hand fearlessly as he leads her sweet lips to his throbbing need.

There is no doubt in Spike's mind that this is a spontaneous "hook up" for the woman before him. Her very presence portrays the confidence of a woman in search for the evening's highest bidder. He knows that this morning she awoke in the arms of a man whom, by now she may not even remember the name of, that is, if she even bothered to stay that long. And tomorrow, she would crash upon the bed of a stranger in fevered frenzy, adrenalin pumping high. But tonight, she is his.

They spent the entire day in that bar with nothing but silence and unmistakable understanding between them. When Spike places his final notes of woolong on the table, he rises from his stool and walks away. _Slowly_. She's played this game before. Waiting until he has left the tarp, she follows, the small, forgotten corgi on her heels. Their walk is one of predator and prey. The intensity is forceful Silent distance, neither looks directly at the other. Spike ducks into an ally way languidly. The woman almost loses sight of him. Elongating her stride, she in unprepared for what awaits her.

As soon as she is close, Spike grabs the woman slamming her against the wall, rougher than he intended. Regardless, his lips are against hers with brazen force, allowing himself penetration into her mouth as he presses his body to hers, heat melding them together—heat of the Venus sun, heat of their delirious passion. Driven by lust, Spike finds himself without the patience of giving tentative kisses and simply runs his lips along the column of the mysterious woman's neck. His heated breath, desire mixed with alcohol, fuels her own fire as she gives cloudy, unseeing glances to the passing people who happen to peak into the ally upon hearing the commotion. Something animalistic tells him to take her now, within this concrete paradise, and he listens deaf to the world around him. His agile fingers, inflamed by the softness of her skin, glide along the sway of her curved waist and hips until coming to the fullness of her thighs. She gives a passionate sigh as her feet leave the ground, hoisted to his waist, legs wrapped around his slender frame and balanced against his growing desire. He presses her further into the wall before biting the sway where her neck and shoulder meets savagely. She feels drained, his musk is an intoxicating miasma.

With enough class to reign himself in, for the time being at least, Spike drops her unceremoniously to seizes the woman's hand and lead her to the space ferry. A starburst sky is the backdrop. Spike strokes the shapely thigh of the woman beside him, squeezing lightly now and then imagining what's to come and fingering the frayed hem of the white washed denim skirt. Through his covetousness he fails to notice the tightening of her muscles and clamminess of her skin as the ship breaks into endless space.

He still feels her as he sits on the edge of his bed staring at the metal door opposite. When did they make it this far? Only now does he realize the coldness of space, his jacket and shirt discarded somewhere in the sitting area. Sweat cascades along the plane of his back leaving cool rivulets, soon forgotten. He needs her. Eyes returning to focus, he stares dead into sudden fluorescent light, her body a silhouette. Wild flaming tresses tousled lightly, his eager undoing, still sticking to her face from dried sweat. The yellow light illuminating her, another stupid half smile pulls at Spike's lips.

"Do you know about mythology?" Spike isn't able to answer as he watches the hips of the woman before him, swaying naturally with every light step. She stands before him, petting his hair back gently, his chin raised to her gentle face. Their two scents combine—the blue ocean and cigarettes. "There was once a contest amongst the goddesses to find who was the fairest. The mortal Paris was brought to be judge." Her fingers pulled slightly at Spike's hair, bringing his attention back to her face as his eyes had began their decent along the column of her neck and the swell of the skin exposed by the loosely tied robe. "Juno, the queen of the gods promises him power and happiness if he chooses her." She smiles as her nimble fingers trace the hard line of his jaw. "Minerva promises him wisdom if he chooses her." Her fingers touch his lips delicately before leaving his skin, the suddenness causing chill to overtake him. "And Venus promises him the most beautiful woman." The robe slowly opens as Spike takes the mysterious woman into his arms. He could already figure out the ending of the story.

"Who are you?" the words fall from Spike's lips clumsily.

The woman before him smirks teasingly, before gently pressing into his body with her own. He willingly complies with the wants of her body, focused on the soft mounds pressed to his own hard chest. His hands are everywhere, open palmed and pressing her flawless tissue, soft and warm, fiercely as she sinews her form seductively against his waiting flesh. A thin gloss of sweat lubricates her movements making them smoother as she grows bolder. Her lips meet his gently, then all he can remember is darkness…

There is more to this story, but I finally have a long chapter and I'm proud. So, maybe I'll get more hits and reviews hint, hint.

AN) The Judgment of Paris is a real myth, you know, the apple thrown into the room addressed to 'the fairest of them all', goddesses fight to see who's the fairest, bring in a mortal (Paris), Trojan War, Iliad and Odyssey.


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